


Life and Death in Venice

by JoiningJoice



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood and Gore, But hey this is the SNK fandom, F/F, F/M, M/M, Venezia | Venice, Violence, but some fluff moments too, pretty angsty, reminescence of past love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:23:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoiningJoice/pseuds/JoiningJoice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Venice, 1577. He's just a kid when his best friend dies; five years later, he's still a kid when he gets involved in something bigger than him, bigger than everything he has always been through.<br/>Something that involves a beautiful, blonde girl, a guy that hides his face behind a mask and a project called 'The Death of Venice'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breathing Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> I'm SO NERVOUS YOU HAVE NO IDEA.  
> This isn't my first fic, but it's my first fiction IN ENGLISH.  
> I'm italian and I don't know if I'm THAT good at english so please feel free to point out my mistakes ;-;  
> Oh, the parenthesis contains the main character's toughts so in this case it's Jean.  
> Hope you enjoy the story, see you at the end for some notes!

 

 

 

Jean looked at the rotten corpse of his best friend burning on the pyre, in the midst of dozens of other bodies.

'We're lucky.', murmured Connie, fixing the band he had on his face. 'If Marco had known we're still alive, he wouldn't be mad at us.'

Jean nodded without paying attention. He wasn't new to the violence, the corpses, the swellings, the black death that brings away the people you loved; no one was, at the time, but he had never thought the plague would have took even Marco, Marco who was always cheerful and happy, who tried to put an end to their mischief everytime they were in trouble.

 

Marco, who died when he was only eleven years old.

Jean clenched his teeth, tears starting to run on his cheeks. He had in front of him the moment that one of the few doctors still alive in Venice, the german Dr. Jaeger, lied Marco on one of his operating tables. He was feverish, and when the doctor moved away the shroud Marco started to put on his face some days before, revealing the swellings of the plague, Jean fainted.

When he woke up he was in Antonio's house, the house of the man who took them under his protection since Jean could remember. Connie was crying in a corner, right beside the fire.

'He cut his face...', he sobbed. 'That devil of a doctor put something in his arm and cutted his face...'

'Shut up, Connie.' Sasha scolded him, shocked. 'You and your damn english mouth...'

Jean lied on his bed, looking at the ceiling and trying not to think at Marco's crippled face, at Marco's face being cutted in half.

He failed.

 

*

 

'Jean, do you know how much is fifty thousand?'

 

Jean leaned the white bricks near the containers of concrete and glanced at Connie, wiping the sweat on his forehead.

'No.' he answered, honest. 'Why are you asking?'

'I've heard someone saying that the plague has killed fifty thousand people.' stated Connie. 'It has to be a lot.'

In front of Jean's eyes appered the image of the pyres, lighting the district as the sun even in the darkest hours of the night, a few days before. The ashes were still falling, slower and sparse, but still falling. He was smittened by a sick, sudden thought.

 

_(We're breathing corpses.)_

 

'I...don't like this kind of speeches, Connie.', he clamed. He and Connie, as everyone else still alive in the district of Dorsoduro[1], had been employed for the construction of the Church of the Redemeer, in the island of Giudecca[2]. The Doge[3] had proclaimed that the church was a thanksgiving to God for having freed Venice from the plague.

 

_(should we thank God for fifty thousand dead, too?)_

  
A neigh and the sound of an approaching fiacre left Jean with no reply from Connie; the fiacre of a surgeon stopped near them, and Grisha Jaeger came down from it, took the typical surgeon mask and put it on his face. The mask was necessary for him, so that he couldn't be infected by the plague or other types of diseases on his patients. The doctor was an educated man, with a degree in medicine, but that didn't prevent him from recurring to surgeon's instruments for his fellow citizen's sake. All the people interrupted their work while Dr. Jaeger opened his bags and pulled out herbs, vials, needles and everything he needed.

'Come on, Jean.'

 

Connie moved thowards the surgeon's fiacre. Jean followed him, dull and not sure if he wanted to be close to the man who, even if he was worthy to have saved tons of lives, was still culprit of Marco's death.

 

_(he was such a good boy.)_

'They shouldn't call it Church of the Redemeer, they should call it after your name, doctor!'

 

Doctor Jaeger didn't had a germanic accent; he moved to Venice many years before, and his wife was venetian, too. He smiled at the man who talked, checking his eyes with a special glass.

 

'You're exaggerating, Master Hannes.' he smiled. 'I'm just doing my job.'  
Jean felt his blood boiling through his veins. 'Does your job include cutting young mens in half, doctor Jaeger?'

His shout was followed by long, embarassing seconds of astounding silence; seconds that Jean, as much as embarassed he was, couldn't totally regret what he did in front of all that people.

Doctor Jaeger stood up and put the mask away to look into his eyes. Jean blushed, nervous.

'You're one of the kids of Antonio, aren't you?'

'And you're an assassin.'

Someone whispered indignantly; the doctor moved to him and raised his hand.  
Jean cringed instinctively, sure that the man was going to slap him for making him shut up.  
Doctor Jaeger's hand rested on Jean's head, calm and peaceful.

Jean stood, unable the move, while the doctor leaned down to watch him from a better point of view.

 

'Tell me, what's your name?'  
'...I'm Jean.'  
'Jean, I'm going to tell you something. Do you know who are your parents?'  
Jean thought about that for a moment. He didn't know almost nothing about his father, while his mother died when he was just five. 'No, doctor Jaeger.'  
'And are you conscious of how many people died because of this epidemy?'  
Jean remembered Connie's words. 'Fifty thousands.' he repeated, even if he really had no idea of how much that meant.  
Grisha nodded. 'About fifty thousands, right. A third of the lagoon's inhabitants. My wife Carla was one of them.'

Jean suddendly shuddered, looking to the doctor's fiacre. He had never met Carla Jaeger, but her son, Eren, was a brat kid with dark hair that used to come along with his father when he visited his patients, taking advantage of those visits to run away to play and get into fights with the kids of the calle[4]. They had fought more than once, just for fun, and they had challenged each other with the screams and enthusiastic applauses of the other kids.  
Just in that moment Jean realised that Eren wasn't nowhere there, that he didn't helped his father to get his herbes just to run away a second later, provoked by someone, laughing. He turned at the doctor, trembling.

  
'Doctor Jaeger, Eren...'  
'Eren is...alright. He's at home, looking after Mikasa. Do you know who Mikasa is?'  
That name sounded exotic to Jean's ears. It was the weirdest one he had ever heard. 'No.'  
'Mikasa is the only daughter of my dearest friend and his wife, a woman who comes from far Asia. Both of them are dead now because of the plague. We're taking care of her, now. She's an orphan, as much as you are and as much as the person you're accusing me of killing probably was.' doctor Jaeger standed up and raised his voice. 'These are dark hours, we have to stay united through them. I could have offered a home to a single kid, but many of us will feel disoriented, lonely, abandoned. We have to stay close to each other, we have to forgive each other.'

 

Doctor Jaeger glanced a weak smile in Jean's direction, then turned back to his work, in other people's ammirance. When his turn to be checked came, Jean stayed silent; Grisha was the one who spoke first.

 

'Jean. That sounds like a french name. You're french, Jean?'  
He nodded, then shook his head. 'My mother used to told me about my father. He was a merchant of Marseille's wines. She was from a town called Monaco of Bavaria. He took me and mom here in Venice, then left us. He had another family.'  
Grisha nodded. 'I see. That shouldn't have been easy for your mother. Growing up a child isn't easy. You have a very religious name, you know? Jean means 'God is gracious' in french. Are you religious, Jean?'

_(I used to be. Then Marco died.)_

 

'My mother was.' he replied. He barely remembered her; the smell of her hair, her hands marking a cross in the air before she started to praise the Lord. The tears in her eyes when she talked of the man she had loved.  
'So', said Grisha. 'What if we find you a second name? It's important to have one. It...makes you feel like you belong to something. What about Kirschtein? That means 'christian' in german.'  
  
Kirschtein. That sounded good.

Even if Marco was still burning in the ashes and in his soul, Jean felt for the first time happy since he left.

 


	2. Meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I finally decided to keep on translating.  
> God I'm trash  
> (thanks for the kudos to everyone <3)

  


  


'GO FUCK YOURSELF, JAEGER!'  
Jean kicked down the door of Antonio's house, running inside while cursing the rest of the world in gestures. Connie followed him in.  
Sasha stood up, running to help Jean the moment she saw that there was blood on his face, grabbing some gauzes from the table.

'What the hell happened?'

Jean punched the table, grinning his teeth. 'That son of a fucking harlot of Eren Haeger made me look like an idiot again. And the Princess was there!'

The Princess was the nickname the guys from the sestiere of Dorsoduro had given to Mikasa, the step-son of doctor Jaeger; a weird surname, since only Mikasa's appeareance was princess-like. The little girl had demonstrated to be a hard nut to crack since the beginning; she was a great fighter, and everyone was afraid of her.

'You perfectly know you can't stand a chance against Eren, Jean.' murmured Sasha, putting a wet gauze on Jean's forehead, near the cut on his eyebrow. 

'Yeah, well, thanks for the supporting.' Jean took the gauze from Sasha's hand, nervous. She glanced at him, returning the hateful look, then turned to Connie.  
'What did they said to each other this time?'

'We were in Campo della Carità.' explained Connie. 'Me, Jean, the other guys...Jean was telling about that time he made Eren fall into the Canal Grande...'

'You mean that time they both fell into the Canal Grande?

'He means that time he fall into the Canal Grande and then pulled me in!' emphasized Jean.

'...As I was saying, he was telling that story to the little guys when Eren and the Princess got out of the printing shop of Master Arlert, with his nephew.' Connie went on. 'The guys started laughing in their direction. Eren got nervous and started yelling at Jean. He yelled back and they went on like this until Eren asked Jean if it was because of his love for Mikasa that he...cut off his dick.'

Sasha's eyes widened; she turned back to Jean. 'Oh my...what did you answer?'

'I said he could just go fuck himself.'

'And he replied...'

'That maybe I would appreciate the honor of him fucking me and not himself.' Jean concluded. 'At that point someone brought out a slingshot and before I could say anything everyone was throwing stones to the other.'

The room went silent. Sasha and Connie glanced at each other, alarmed. 

They had grown up with Jean; with him, and the other orphans, the thieves and the foreigners in the district of Dorsoduro. With him, they escaped to the arrests, to the chases of the town's guards, and they survived an epidemy that was fatal for most of the people that they used to know. They both respected Jean, as a friend, as a brother and as a leader; and they weren't the only ones. But rumors get around, and if even the son of a doctor was aware of Jean's different tastes, they got around really quickly...

  


'Just...let it go, Jean. Let that idiot talk.' murmured Sasha, kindly taking back the gauze from Jean's trembling hands. The wound didn't seem to stop bleeding. 'I think we should cauterize it. Connie?'

Connie stood up. 'I'm taking the gunpowder.'

  


While Connie left the room, Sasha relaxed on her chair. The silence between the three of them was embarassing. Jean kept talking, just to break that silence.

  


'The guards were there before we could even realize. I got distracted, and I'm sure one of those damned cocksucker on Jaeger's side hit me in the face.'

'...Are you sure it wasn't Eren himself?'

'Yes, I'm sure!'

'Okay, okay! Was the French with them?'

  


Jean nodded, trembling again. The French was how the people of Venice called the Corporal Rivaille. Rivaille was a man that got his grade in the military with victories against the criminals of the town; there was a rumor that he himself used to be a smuggler or something like that, but it was just a rumor. His short appeareance and the apparently calm look on his face were just a mask: he never hesitated to get his hands dirty if violence was requited for end the fights in the city. He was someone to be afraid of.

'We run away the moment we saw him', ammitted Jean. 'I don't think Eren did the same, though, and the only satisfying thing from all this bullshit is the idea of Eren Jaeger being kicked in the face by the Corporal. That guy wouldn't made a problem to hit the Doge's daughter, if he'd found her stealing a piece of bread.'

'Can you actually picture the Doge's daughter stealing a piace of bread?'

  


Sasha and Jean bursted out laughing, while Connie came back in the room, a perplexed look on his face.

  


Five years had passed since the epidemy.

The Carnival was coming.

  


*

'What do you think you're doing, boy?!'

  


Three days after his fight with Eren, Jean was hanging in the market, searching for a prey to rob and rubbing the new scar on his right eyebrow, when the scream made him turn, as most of the people in the market. He relaxed when he saw that the guard's scream wasn't directed to him, and that the guard was actually facing a little guy, face covered by a hood. The guy was still holding the bread he took from a stand.

  


'I...ah...I'm hungry, sir.' murmured the guy, voice made thin by fear.

  


Jean hold a laughter. He knew that tactic; the guy was probably a diversion to keep the guard inattentive while his partner was somewhere in the market, stealing other people's purses. It was a risky tactic, something only a beginner would do. 

He looked around for the partner; his eyebrows furrowed. There was no one that looked like he was stealing. Was the little guy really so oblivious? Was he really just trying to take a piece of bread from someone's stand?

  


'Are you kidding me, kid?'

The people had stopped looking at the scene for a while; it wasn't something rare to see. The guard's purse was on the side of his belt, inviting. Jean got close, slipping a knife out of his own belt. With a light, expert gesture, he made the purse fall into his hand. He then walked away, paying attention not to be noticed, when another scream made him turn around.

  


'UGLY LITTLE BRAT, I'M GOING TO MAKE YOU PAY FOR YOUR INSOLENCE!'

  


The guard pulled out his rapier. Jean felt something really similar to a sense of guilt in his chest; the kid looked so afraid, so so inexperienced. He used to be like him, always getting into the guards, as a kid, and always being rescued by someone.

_(Someone I can't remember...)_

He run to the guard and rapidly grabbed the little guy's arm.

  


'Follow me, pansy!', he screamed to the boy. He didn't have to repeat that.

  


They started running, away from the guards, slipping between calle and calletti, until the guard was nowhere to be seen. When they stopped they were both gasping, searching for air. Jean started laughing, uncapable of hold himself anymore, the adrenalin of the moment grabbing his mind. The scar on the eyebrow was pulsing, and his whole body was covered in sweat. It's been a while since the last time he ran like that. The other kid was still almost on his knees, tired. Jean took the purse he had just stolen and opened it.

'You know what, kid?' he smiled, taking a couple of coins from the bag 'You're really a brat, but you deserve this. If you feel like learning some tricks, ask about Jean Kirschtein. To the next tim...'

  


Jean abruptly stopped talking. At the sound of the coins, the kid had raised his head; the hood had slipped down, revealing a mophead of blond air. But that wasn't the main point: the person that Jean kept calling a kid had the face of the most sweet, feminine and unquestionably beautiful Jean ever looked at. Even more beautiful than Mikasa's.

  


'Thank you, sir!' said the girl, taking the coins from Jean's hand. She smiled, and watching at her smile felt like watching at a spring storm, or a field of flowers illuminated by the sun. Her voice didn't sound like the one of a kid, now: no, that was the voice of an angel.

'You're...wel...come.' murmued Jean, confused.

  


The girl suddendly realized her face wasn't hidden; she jumped on, nervous, and quickly raised the hood on her head. The only thing Jean could looked at, now, were her bright, big blue eyes. She got closer to Jean.

  


'I have to run now. Someone is searching him. But please, if some guard asked you about a blonde girl don't tell me you saw me! Please...' she begged. She then glanced at the coins in her hand. 'I'll always be grateful for your gesture...Jean. You're my savior. I can't sold it and it may cause me some troubles, but I can give this to you as a sign of my gratitude. I'll come and search for you, sooner or later.' she was smiling again. 'Maybe you can really teach me some of your tricks.'

She took Jean's hands and put something in them; then she ran away, before Jean had the chance to stop her and ask her what the hell was happening. The silence feel in the alley; the noises of the centre of the district was far, suffused. Jean felt like he was being observed. He looked at the roofs and for a moment he tought a shadow was on them, but at a second look, there was nothing there.

(This is just ridicolous...)

Jean looked at the object in his hands. It was a ring, and something graven on his surface. Jean lowered closer to his hands. 

Yes, there was definitely something on the ring; an inscription, “Aeterna florida virtus”, and a coat of arms portraying a golden bridge on a blue field.

The coat of arms of the Doge.

Jean immediately stood up and turned at the direction where the girl disappeared just a few minutes ago. 

There was someone. Someone really close to him, not more than five inches far from him. Someone who was covered in a long, black cloak.

Someone whose face was covered with a mask, darker than the night itself.

  


'Hi, Jean.' he whispered.

  


'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!'

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No guys that's not Batman
> 
> As always, tell me if I've made some mistakes!
> 
>  
> 
> [I have a Tumblr woh surprise surprise](http://what-a-joice.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> [1][2] The district of Dorsoduro/ the island of Giudecca = Venice has six districts, called 'sestieri'; Dorsoduro, la Giudecca (which is an island) and San Marco are the only one mentioned in this story. You can see a map of them by simply googling 'districts of Venice' or 'sestieri di Venezia'  
> [3] The Doge: he was something like Venice's king during Renaissance.  
> [4] Calle: it's a word for 'street' mostly used in Venice; 'calle' is a big street, 'calletta' is a little street, 'campo' and 'campiello' are respectively a big and a little square.  
> __________________________________________________
> 
> Ooook, so. Life and Death in Venice had a relly great feedback when I originally posted it on EFP, which is the italian fan fiction website; I was convinced by my friend Monica ( <3 ) to translate it in english and post it on AO3.  
> I really hope you like it; I've put my heart on this story, I really, really love it. I even had some fan arts of it that I litterally treasured!  
> So, uhm, let me know what you think and, as I already said, feel free to point out my mistakes, right? I'll have the next chapter checked by my beta reader but she's sleeping now and I couldn't wait to post it!  
> My Tumblr, in case you'd like to tell me something http://what-a-joice.tumblr.com/  
> See ya!


End file.
